


Long Hair and Corpses

by Morpheus626



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Sherlock had kept his long hair instead of cutting it before returning to 221B? This idea was mentioned on a stream, and I fell in love with it; so this fic seeks to answer that question:)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Hair and Corpses

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning that this was written rather quickly, so it might not be the best thing ever--however, I might hop on and edit a bit of it here or there over the next few days if I think of anything, and that might help the whole thing out a bit. Hopefully it is okay as it is right now though :) 
> 
> As always, if you'd like to comment or critique but would rather not do it here, feel free to contact me at my tumblr: www.itsalwaysprettiestafterthefall.tumblr.com
> 
> These characters do not belong to me, but to Arthur Conan Doyle; and their tv incarnations to their actors and Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.

“Your methods are always somewhat unsanitary Sherlock—I get that—but your hair falling all over the corpse…” Lestrade trailed off with a grimace on his face. John couldn’t help but agree with him as he surveyed the scene. 

Sherlock was bent over the body, a man most likely in his early forties, his nose nearly touching the cold flesh. What was touching the body however, was Sherlock’s long dark hair. He had let it grow during “his two year holiday” as Mrs. Hudson was choosing to call it, and so far had chosen to keep it long. Whether he did simply to bother John or because he couldn’t be bothered to go get it cut wasn’t certain, but John didn’t really care at this point. Let him keep it long, looking like he’d fallen out of a romance novel—that was his business. Besides that, Mary kept purposefully telling Sherlock how dashing he looked with long hair, and how Molly and Mrs. Hudson surely liked it as well. Along with the factor of irritating John—well at this rate he would never cut it; John was certain. 

Sherlock sighed heavily and pulled himself off of the ground. “Well, what do you propose I do to move it out of the way? I don’t have anything to pull it back, and I really could be more unsanitary couldn’t I? I hardly see how you have reason to complain—“ 

“Sherlock.” John realized he needed to stop Sherlock now. He was giving off all the signs of an hour-long lecture, which none of them needed right now. Everyone was sleep-deprived and sick of dealing with the latest case, which had been dragging on for weeks, even with Sherlock working on it. The killer was better than any of them had expected, more difficult to track and figure out. Sherlock, per the course, had been the ultimate pain in the arse as the weeks had gone on, angry with himself and anyone else who got near him for letting the killer somehow continue on. If Mary was with them, she would have jabbed John in the side much earlier to get him to calm Sherlock. Hell, she would have had a hair tie for him to use as well. Though, now that John thought about it, he had been holding onto one for her, for when she would put her hair up in a small ponytail or pigtails. He reached into his pocket, and sure enough, there was a black hair elastic. Sherlock was still staring at him, the perfect picture of irritation. Lestrade’s eyes were flicking between the two of them, and he mouthed ‘hurry up’ to John. They’d only have a moment or two more until Sherlock started up again— 

So John made his choice. He walked back behind Sherlock, and grabbed all of Sherlock’s dark and rather messy hair in his hand. It took him a minute to remember how to throw a ponytail up for someone else; he’d done it for Harry enough when they were young, but it had been quite a few years since that. Nonetheless, he managed a low and messy ponytail, sat at the base of Sherlock’s neck. 

Lestrade said nothing, just hummed appreciatively and moved away from them. John realized he’d probably only come over to get Sherlock to throw up his hair, and was most likely going back to a warm squad car and a cup of tea. John found himself quite jealous at that, until he looked back to Sherlock, who hadn’t moved since John had finished with his hair. 

“You’re welcome, by the way. Now, I think we’ve kept everyone here long enough, so, do you have anything?” John mumbled, feeling a bit awkward at having man-handled Sherlock like that (even if they had assaulted one another more than once for a variety of reasons in the past). 

Sherlock fingered the ponytail as he pulled the edge of it over his shoulder. “Yes. Um, I’ll need to go back to the flat, and do a bit of research, but I think I’ve got us a better lead.” He started to walk over to the squad cars, and John followed eagerly. It was cold and this case was getting incredibly tiring; he’d also have to remember to get another hair elastic or two at home—at least two, so there would be one in his pocket for Mary and one for Sherlock. 

“Oh and John?” Sherlock stopped suddenly, forcing John to walk right into his back. John found himself at an entirely new level of frustration—they were so close to leaving and being somewhere warm, what on earth could Sherlock need now? 

“Thank you John. I’ll need to keep a few of these on me so Lestrade can’t complain.” 

John smiled at that. Then it hit him. 

“You mean you still aren’t cutting it yet?!” 

Sherlock simply smiled, and continued on towards the squad cars.


End file.
